Lake Victoria to Khartoum 



journey on the bosom of the river. We are fast 

 nearing the pylons and sculptures of ancient 

 Egypt, older far than the Pharaohs and more 

 aged than the ken of man. The banks are green 

 with corn, and above the thorny acacias wave 

 the feathery fronds of date palms standing like 

 sentinels over the crops. A short distance only 

 from the water's edge, sand and bold and rugged 

 rocks still hold their sway over all creation. 

 The creak of the **sakia," or Persian water- 

 wheel, turned by the meek-eyed bullock, for ever 

 wandering round his straitened circuit, makes 

 drowsy music to the ear. 



Laziness is in the air. It is catching from the 

 sights and sounds around. Two or three men, 

 dressed in clean white robes, are sitting on a log 

 passing the time of day ; some dirty children are 

 doing nothing save rolling in the dust ; a woman, 

 with her water-pot balanced on her head, steadied 

 by her slim brown arms, turns to watch the 

 steamer pass ; a donkey stands with drooping 

 head, fast asleep in the grateful shade of a tree ; 

 the ears of corn are nodding to the zephyrs ; 

 the sailor at the leads reports the varying depth 

 of the water in a monotonous sing-song ; some 

 of the crew are dozing in the bows ; the whole 

 landscape is fast asleep, as also are the huge 

 Colossi — gigantic figures for ever staring at the 

 dawn — that guard the sacred portals of Abu 

 Simbel's temple. 



60 



